The Magic Number
by KTEW
Summary: How many people do you need in a Glee club? How many contenders are in The Glee Project? And what happens when they all get involved in one big love... spiral? OCs, but not major parts
1. Freshmen Indeed

*Matheus*

"Matheus, wake up," a voice said. I ignored both it and the hand shaking my shoulder and buried deeper under my covers.

"Come on, wake up," the voice repeated.

"No," I grumbled.

A groan. "You don't want to be late for your first day of high school, do you?"

"Yes, I do," I muttered.

"Oh, come on."

The covers were yanked from above me and I was dragged from my bed by my waist.

"No!" I said, alarmed, my eyes now wide open. "Mom! Mom, let go!"

Needless to say, she didn't.

_I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life…_

I was standing just outside my mom's car, glaring at the school in front of me.

"Have a nice day, hon!" she said.

I turned and gave her a death glare. She grinned kindly, almost apologetically, and drove away.

I pulled the hood of my jacket (I wasn't wearing anything under it, seeing as it was still summer) over my head and, grumbling, stomped up toward the school.

"Hey, kid," an unfamiliar voice said as I reached the stairs.

I looked up from where I was half-glaring at the stone and saw a well-muscled guy in a football jacket standing a few steps above me.

"Elementary school's across the street," he said, smirking. I wasn't sure if he was serious or not.

"I know," I said, sighing.

"So why aren't you there?" he asked, leaning down a bit so his head was only three feet higher than mine.

"'Cause I'm a freshman," I said with a nice, big fake grin to boot.

Before he could say anything to let me know if he was confused or just being a jerk, a girl practically materialized next to me.

He looked at her, mildly annoyed. "What's with all the little kids today?"

I looked over at her. She was a good four inches taller than me, but her face made her look younger, even with her red shirt with black stripes encircling the sleeves and a burning heart on the chest, torn jeans, black Converse, and black fingerless gloves.

She scowled. "Move it, pinhead," she muttered, pushing past him.

She reached the door and looked back down at me. "You comin', or what?" she asked, her expression becoming a bit more… welcoming.

I ran up next to her and we stepped into the annoyingly loud hall together.

"Freshman?" she asked, looking over at me.

I nodded. "You?"

She nodded. "But I have a friend whose brother already goes here, so he gave us the warnings and stuff. Probably a good thing." she chuckled humorlessly.

She paused and turned toward me. "Hey, how tall are you?"

I frowned. "4'9"," I muttered, not stopping.

She caught up to me. "And yet you still look older than me…" she said under her breath. She looked to her left and stopped. "Well, this is my stop," she said. She stuck out her hand. "I'm Ellis, by the way."

I shook it. "Matheus."

"So, I'll see you later?" she asked, almost smiling.

I shrugged. "Probably."

One corner of her mouth lifted up. She ran over to the wall of lockers, waving, and stopped next to a darker-skinned girl with short hair sticking out at weird angles.

I shook my head, disappointed in myself. _Probably_. Way to flirt, Matheus.

I scoffed at myself and kept walking.


	2. Slushied

*Cameron*

"We're going to be late," Damian pointed out as I tried to grab everything I needed for the next two periods.

"You don't have to wait for me, you know," I said, looking back at him. "You can go on ahead."

He shrugged and turned around. "See you later!" he yelled over his shoulder, running off.

One of the girls in the hallway stopped walking and watched him, trying not to smile. I knew I'd seen her before. I recognized the stylized, almost-black hair and ribbon-tied, poofy, lace-trimmed blue dress, but I couldn't remember her name.

I rolled my eyes, adjusted my glasses, and turned back to my locker. What the heck did he mean, "late"? We had fifteen minutes until classes started.

"Hey, nerd."

I froze. I'd kind of hoped to get out of that, now that I was finally in high school. But, according to several people, I really do look like the caricature of one.

I turned around, all the books I needed held in my left hand, near my chest, only to be greeted by a splash of cold.

Very, _very_ cold.

The jock in front of me smirked and ran off, just as I registered the Slushie cup in his hand.

I gasped, shivering from the ice dripping down my face and blurring my glasses, and leaned back against my locker, in shock and pain from the stings of the ice.

Heavy, fast footsteps came toward me and I automatically flinched, thinking I'd get hit again.

"Here, follow me," a high-than-I-expected voice said. I opened my eyes, but all I could make out was a flash of orange.

The person grabbed my wrist, closed my locker, and led me down the hall, making me feel more blind than usual.

"Stay," the voice said a minute later, putting a pair of hands on my shoulders and steadying me against what felt like a tiled wall.

My glasses were taken off, actually clearing up my vision a bit. The girl in front of me slid over to the other wall, turned on the sink, and came back with a handful of damp paper towels.

"Eyes," she said. I closed them and she gently wiped the ice and artificial flavoring off of my face and arms. A moment later, she slid my glasses back on.

I opened my eyes to find my glasses completely cleared. The girl smiled a bit. She was tall, but nothing close to my height, and overweight, but had a relatively pretty, open face. Her orange hair was oily and curled wildly at the ends.

"C'mere," she said, taking my wrist again and leading me to a sink.

I glanced around. We were definitely in a restroom, but it was the concept of _which_ that bugged me.

"Let's see if we can clear off the shirt," she said, hands subconsciously going to her hips.

"This is the girls' restroom, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeppers," she said, wetting the paper towels in her hand.

"'Bye," I said, trying to slide past her.

She blocked me. "Uh uh. You're not going anywhere until I get you cleaned up."

I sighed and leaned back against the wall. She wiped at my shirt, a bit of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

"So, what's your name?" she asked after a few seconds.

"Cameron," I said, absently drumming my fingers against the wall.

"Hannah," she said. She glanced back up and grinned.

"So, are you a sophomore?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Freshman. But I heard about this stuff. It happens to all of the outsiders. You don't fit in, you get Slushied. What about you? I'm guessing you're a freshman, too?"

I nodded as she tossed that handful into the trash, grabbed a few more, and wet those. "Yeah." I was quiet for a moment. "So, why did you decide to help me?"

She looked back up at me, surprised, then rolled her eyes and went back to it. "Was I supposed to just leave you there, shivering like you were in Antarctica?"

I felt myself blush a little at that one. My reaction _had_ been a little more extreme than I'd expected.

She stopped wiping and put her hands on her hips again. "Well, that looks about–" She cut herself off, her attention drawn back to my face. "Oh, your hair…"

I wasn't quite sure what she meant, so I turned around and took a step to the right so that I was standing in front of a mirror, and flinched. It was matted down in some places, sticking up in others, and tinted blue.

Hannah thought a moment. "Well, we could rinse it in the sink, paper-towel dry it, and brush it out. That sound good to you?"

I nodded. Anything was better than its current state.

She slid in next to me, turned on the hot side of the faucet, and ran her hand under the water. She wiped it off on her jeans, waited a moment, and tested it again. She looked over at me and nodded.

I dunked my head in, welcoming the now over-heated water, and tried to get as much Slushie out of my hair as I could.

I turned off the water but didn't lift my head up, knowing that if I did, it'd turn into another drying session.

Hannah rubbed at it with yet another handful of paper towels. At least this time they were dry.

"'Kay," she said after a minute.

I lifted my head up, looked in the mirror, and was stuck between laughing and groaning at my current hairstyle.

I looked back at her, hoping she had another idea on this. She reached into her back pocket, obviously trying not to laugh, and pulled out a comb.

I reached out to take it, but she shook her head, grinning, reached up the several inches of difference in height, and combed it out. I fidgeted a bit, which only made her laugh.

Several seconds later, she stopped. "And you're good!"

I looked over to the mirror and was pleasantly surprised. My hair looked fine, my skin was clean, and my shirt had a few dark spots, but nothing too bad. I looked down at the books still in my hand and frowned, seeing the blue covering them.

But it was definitely better than being a walking Popsicle for the rest of the day.

"Thanks," I said, moving toward the door.

She smiled. "Hey, no problem." She moved in front of me. "Hang on."

She peeked out into the hallway, looked both ways, and gestured for me to go out.

I slipped out quickly, walked a few feet, and stopped. She came up next to me and we started walking together.

"Hey, do you think we have any classes together?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Let me see your schedule."

She smiled, pulled it out of her pocket, and handed it over.

Okay, first day did _not_ start off well, but that scene didn't exactly end badly. I might've even gone so far as to say that I finally had two friends.

And then came the second onslaught.

The pair of jocks walked away, laughing, as we blinked away the ice and the shock.

I looked at Hannah, my eyes still wide in surprise. And, from what I could see through the green and water, she licked her cheek.

"Mm, cherry," she said, looking serious.

We both started laughing.

"Come on," I said, rolling my eyes. I grabbed her wrist and started walking back in the direction of where we'd come from.

I _really_ need to learn to knock on wood.


	3. Cornered

*Marissa*

Ah, first day. I like it, and feel like everyone thinks I'm a freak because of it.

But, then, I'm no freshman. I know the school: the bullies, the teachers, the rules, the expectations.

And that joining Glee Club is social suicide.

I mean, I love singing, dancing, and acting. But I don't love having Slushie thrown in my face. I felt like that only sophomore who hasn't been Slushied, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"_Hey, soul sister_," I sang quietly to myself as I walked down the hall. "_Ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio_…" I trailed off, confused by the sudden quiet.

_Slam_!

"Ow!"

I froze, trying to pinpoint where that was coming from. It only took another _slam_ to let me know someone hadn't just accidentally walked into a locker, and to tell me where it was coming from.

I ran, making sure I was quiet, to where the noise was coming from. A group of jocks – Marcus Karofsky included – was surrounding someone, cornering whoever it was against the row of lockers.

If Emily were there, she'd have scared them off with her amazing bluffing.

Apparently I'd been hanging around her too much.

"Yeah, Mr. Shue, it's over here," I said casually over my shoulder, walking toward them.

Just out of the corner of my eye I saw them speed off.

As soon as they were out of sight, I sped over to the boy on the ground. He was really dark-skinned and overweight, with a shaved head, and was wearing a scarf in the middle of summer. It was pretty obvious why they were picking on him.

"You okay?" I asked, kneeling down next to him.

He nodded and sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, but they did land one good punch," he said in a quite feminine voice.

I held out a hand to help him up. He took it.

"I'm Marissa," I said, smiling a little, once he was on his feet.

He smiled a bit back. "Alex." He glanced in the direction they'd disappeared in. "So, do you know them?"

I shook my head. "I know the brother of one of them. He was a bully, too, so it doesn't surprise me that he's like this."

"So, you're a… sophomore?" he asked after a moment.

I nodded. "Freshman?"

"Gee, how could you tell?" he asked, sarcastically smiling a bit.

I chuckled. "Well, newbie, let's get you to class. Where's your first period?"

He took a folded schedule out of his bag and looked. "Gym."

I smiled. "Ah, Coach Sylvester, right? I had her last year." I started walking. "C'mon, keep up!"

He caught up and we walked on together.


	4. Crash

*Damian*

I knew we had plenty of time to get to class. I just wanted to get a good spot, was all. And Cameron was right behind me anyway.

We'd been best mates since the 7th grade, when I'd moved to the states. I was just staying with some friends, but Cam's family had practically become mine.

And since–

"Hey!"

I blinked, surprised, snapping back into reality.

"Watch where you're going!" the girl in front of me complained, loud enough to break through my iPod blasting Sammy Davis Jr.

"Oh, sorry," I said, shaking my head out of the clouds. I paused the song, took my earbuds out, and shoved the cords into my pocket.

She sighed, dropping to her knees. Everything she'd been carrying was sprawled on the ground.

"Here, let me help," I said, kneeling down next to her.

I picked up one of her notebooks, but found myself looking at her instead of the ground. She was beautiful, even with a few strands of blonde left in her almost-black hair. Her ribbon-tied blue dress was delicately spread over the floor.

"What?" she asked, noticing my stare.

I shook my head, handing over her books. I didn't even notice picking them up. "It's nothing." I stood up and subconsciously brushed my hands off on the hem of my shirt.

She pushed herself onto her feet and squinted at me a bit. "Are you Irish?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Moved here a couple of years ago."

She nodded slowly, expressionless.

I tried for something to say. The situation was getting a bit too awkward.

She suddenly stuck out her hand, her books clutched against her chest by her other arm. She had a lot of stuff, with that, a purse, a lunchbox, and her messenger bag.

"Lindsay," she said simply, her expression not warming up.

I cracked a smile and shook her hand. To my surprise, it was kinda callused. "Damian."

She nodded curtly and dropped my hand. After a moment, a brief second of unsureness crossed her face.

"See you around?" she asked, expressionless again.

I nodded. "Probably."

She nodded back and went back to walking, brushing past my shoulder.

I sighed inwardly. She was definitely pretty, but my last relationship didn't exactly end well. Besides, I didn't even know anything about her.

_Although there's definitely more there than meets the eye_, I thought, noticing that I'd started walking.

I did wonder if I'd see her again. And if I could figure out why I felt like there was something I was missing.

_Well, we'll just have to find out_, I decided.

But I planned on the answer being a yes.


	5. Different Circles

**Yay, new chapter! Sorry for the slight delay, but I hope everyone understands that I work on other stuff, too. Anyway, this is the last chapter in the introductions arc.**

**Enjoy!**

1st period was one of the many classes I didn't have with anyone I knew. Of course, I only knew two people and one of them was a sophomore, so…

Well, I knew where my class was and was a minute away from it, with fifteen minutes left to get to class, so I was slipping out of a side door to avoid the rush while not being the first to class and looking like a complete and total nerd.

I paused as I closed the door, my back facing the parking lot, a familiar smell hitting my nose.

I turned around quickly. A boy was frozen in place against the wall of the narrow passageway from the parking lot, one hand clenched firm and stiffly lying against his leg.

I looked up from his fist to his face. He was actually pretty cute, even with the partially shocked, partially just terrified expression.

He tried to relax, his eyes half-lidding and most of his face relaxing, but his shoulders as stiff as before. "'Sup?" he asked simply, obviously trying to control his relatively raspy voice.

I rolled my eyes. "You can relax. I can _smell_ the weed. Go ahead and finish the joint."

He sighed with relief and flipped the joint into the dip between his index and middle fingers. He raised it to his lips, letting me see the dark burn it had made when he was hiding the thing.

I winced. "Uh, you okay there?"

He followed my eyes, then nodded, running his good hand through his dreadlocks. "Yeah. I've had worse."

I nodded. We just stood there for a moment, not really knowing what to say. At least, I didn't. We obviously came from different circles. He was a burnout; I was that overachiever who dies if you seat her in the back.

He stuck out his good hand. "Samuel."

I smiled a bit and shook it. "McKynleigh."

"Freshman?" he guessed, leaning back against his wall.

I nodded. "Junior?"

He shook his head. "Sophomore."

I was a bit surprised. He looked older. "So, how do you like the school?" I leaned back against my wall and slipped my hands into my pockets, the straps pf my backpack dragging my shoulders down from being trapped against the brick.

He shrugged. "I'm new."

I stared at his mouth for a moment. "So you're starting off your first day at a new school–"

"Standing outside, smoking a joint," he finished for me. "Yeah. I just…" He sighed and shook his head. After a quick second of thinking, he raised the drug to his lips and took a puff. I could tell from the pained but grateful expression that came over his face as he closed his eyes and exhaled that he wasn't one of those kids who does it just because. But I knew better than to ask why.

"How do you know the smell of this stuff, anyway?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

"My brother's old friend," I explained, shrugging. "Before he got arrested for it, he'd usually light up in our backyard."

He nodded slightly, then partially opened his eyes, leaving them at the squint they were in from before, surprising me with his lack of reaction at the mention of the fact that he was arrested.

"Where'd you live?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"LA," he said simply. "This," he indicated the joint, "wasn't really a big deal there."

I smiled a bit. "I'll bet."

_Ring_!

"Oh!" I said, looking up at the alarm, surprised. "Five minute bell. That was fast." I looked over at him. "See you around?"

He nodded.

I smiled warmly and slipped back through the door, my face feeling slightly warm, my mind on something other than walking to Accelerated Math II.

He was _really_ cute.


	6. Similar Interests

*Marissa*

I walked into art surprisingly early, considering my little detour with Alex, and grabbed an empty table. I didn't know if I'd know anyone in this class, so I made sure there were plenty of spots available and watched the door. A girl with ridiculously long blonde hair, a beauty mark by her left eye, and big blue-green eyes walked in, clinging to an older-looking girl with red-brown hair, haphazard bangs, and hazel eyes. The coloring made no sense, since they were both Asian, which made me all the more positive that I knew the brunette. But the two of them grabbed a table across the room and I didn't think I should walk all the way over there to ask how I would.

I kept watching the door, waiting for someone whose name I knew, at least. But I was surprised when it actually happened.

"Bryce?" I asked, eyebrows raised, as he came to sit next to me. "Since when are you into art?"

"I'm not," he said simply, taking his earbuds out. "I didn't really like any of the electives and Emily said you'd be here."

I rolled my eyes. "Where else would I i_be_/i? The Arts are my life."

"Oh, I know," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "You draw, you act, and don't you sing"

"Emily told you?" I guessed.

He nodded, his fingers flying over the buttons. "She's how I know pretty much everything I do about you."

"Including who I i_am_/i," I pointed out. "We had every class together since 5th grade and you didn't know who I was until your girlfriend told you about her best friend."

He hit send and glanced up. "Your point?"

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the door. At this point there were only a couple of minutes before the bell, so most of the seats were taken. For a while I kept watching, but no one came in. Bryce just kept texting away.

Just before the bell rang a boy walked in, looking a bit disheveled. He jumped at the sound but quickly regained composure and looked around for a seat.

I whistled loudly, making most of the class turn and stare, and waved him over.

He looked surprised but walked over and, slightly hesitantly, took the spot across from me.

Bryce looked up, noticed him, put his phone away, and studied him for a moment. "Do I know you?"

The other boy shook his head. "I'm new." I liked his voice. It was almost stereotypical rocker, but it was unique, too.

"Junior?" Bryce guessed.

The other boy shook his head again, looking slightly amused and pushing a couple of dreadlocks out of his face. "Sophomore."

I smiled. "Us, too. Maybe you're in some of our classes."

Now he really smiled. Not much, but it was definitely there. "Maybe. I'm Samuel, by the way."

"Bryce." He took his phone out again, cutting off any chance of reply.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm Marissa."

Samuel smiled a little more and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Ms. Justice, the art teacher for 5 years, coming in and making herself known by Sparta-kicking the door shut behind her before half-skipping to her desk and smiling at her now jumpy students.

I couldn't concentrate for most of class, my mind wandering to the rest of the day but focusing on the fact that Samuel was wearing a Green Day T-shirt.

Yep, we were going to get along just fine.


	7. Sophomores

*Ellis*

I stepped into the yearbook room and looked around. No one I knew. No surprise there. I saw an empty table and grabbed it.

I looked around again. The room was more than half full. I'd gotten lost on the way to class, so I'd taken longer than expected. I sighed quietly and dug through my bag for my book. I'd only managed to read a couple of pages when a loud scrape made me look up.

Two girls dropped into the seats in front of me. One was Hispanic, with long hair, full lips, and a noticeably low-cut shirt. The other was pale and had shoulder-length brown hair up in pigtails, hazel eyes, wire-rim glasses, and freckles.

"Hey!" the brunette said, smiling.

I stared. "Um… hi?" Who the hell were these two?

The Hispanic girl looked at her, amused. "Holly, boo, you might wanna introduce us."

The younger-looking girl frowned at her. "Sorry, who are you talking to?"

The Hispanic girl rolled her eyes and turned to me. "I'm Emily." She pointed to the other girl. "This is Granyt."

The spectacled girl smiled. "There you go." She turned back to me. "What's your name?"

I blinked, confused from that little scene. "Uh, I'm Ellis."

Granyt giggled. "You look so confused."

Emily rolled her eyes again, still looking at me. "Her name's Holly, but she goes by Granyt. Call her Holly and she'll 'end you'." She made quotation marks with her fingers.

Granyt nodded, grinning. "Yep!" She fingered the strap of leather around her neck. "A friend gave me the name because of this." She turned it around so a small rock clasped onto it was visible.

I nodded, staring blankly. And I'd thought that that kid in the hallway was weird.

"So… you're a freshman?" Emily asked, pulling out a bottle of nail polish.

I nodded, shaking off the confusion. You?"

"Sophomores," she said, already halfway done with her left hand.

I looked at Granyt and raised an eyebrow. She didn't look young, really, it was the pigtails that made it hard to believe.

"What?" she asked, noticing.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head. Pointing it out would only be the pot calling the kettle black.

"Okay, kids!" a voice said from the front of the classroom.

I turned, surprised. A relatively young-looking woman maybe a bit shorter and heavier than me with a black bob was standing at the desk. Ms. Henki, I guessed.

"This class will be…" she continued. I automatically zoned out. But, just from the people, I knew that even though I'd heard the speech a million times before, this class was gonna be interesting.


	8. Last Seat

*Cameron*

"Sorry I'm late," I apologized, walking into broadcasting. Hannah and I'd only finished cleaning up right before the late bell, and then I'd gotten lost twice.

"That's fine…" the man behind the desk said, obviously waiting for me to say my name.

"Cameron," I said, smiling a bit.

He smiled back. "Cameron. Well, find yourself a seat and I'll take roll in a minute."

I looked over to see about twenty kids–mostly guys–sitting in a semi-circle. The only spot available was the far end, next to a kid whose feet barely even touched the ground.

I walked over and sat down, sighing inwardly. It was just my luck that I was sitting next to someone a foot and a half shorter than me. "Hey."

He seemed to snap back into reality and looked over. "Hey," he said, turning off his iPod and taking his earbuds out. "I'm Matheus."

I raised an eyebrow. He had a bit of an accent, but I couldn't place it. "Nice name. I'm Cameron."

He nodded. "Sophomore?"

I shook my head. "Freshman. You, too?"

He looked a bit surprised, but nodded. "If this is what the rest of the grade looks like, I'm in trouble." He chuckled half-heartedly.

I laughed. "Well, I've already been mistaken for a junior, so I think you're okay." I wasn't kidding; a girl had asked me for directions.

He smiled a bit. "I kinda hope. I mean, the only other person I've met was only a few inches taller than me. Of course, she was a girl…"

I tried not to laugh again. "Don't worry. I'm sure not everyone's over five feet tall."

He frowned. I realized how that had sounded and resisted the urge to facepalm. _Smooth_, I thought, annoyed with myself.

"Alright, guys," the teacher, Mr. Scott according to the board, said, wheeling out from behind his desk. I finally noticed that he was in a wheelchair. "Let's take roll."

I turned back to Matheus. "I'm sorry?" I asked quietly and hopefully as he started calling names.

Matheus shrugged, looking indifferent, his earbuds back in.

And _this_ was why Damian was my only friend.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, Cameron, you fail. XD Most of my other epic fail scenes I have planned are for Matheus, so... Although there <em>is <em>one torture scene for Cameron... Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...**

**Oh, and the teacher is based off of an actual teacher at my school. I only had him for 2 days, but... Well, you know. XD**

**Next chapter shouldn't take as long! I'll do it after I finish Jesse's Girl (Dameron Glee-verse one-shot)!**


	9. Melting

**AN: The next chapter should be the last short one for a while. I'll try to make everything after that at least 1,000 words. ^^; So, on with the chapter! But first, because my friend wanted to do the intros, 8 chapters worth of summarizing!**

* * *

><p>Flower's voice: "Previously on The Magic Number. So Ellis and Matheus were practically thrown out of the school because some jock thought they were elementary kids, but Ellis's attitude kinda countered Matheus's depression and forced the guy to let them through. Then Ellis found out she has yearbook with a bunch of upperclassmen. Like, Emily seems like a diva and possible slut, and Granyt's just plain <em>weird<em>.

"Cameron was slushied, so Hannah helped clean him up – in the girls' bathroom, of course – but she wound up getting slushied, too, making them both late to class. For shame. But so he wound up taking the last seat, by Matheus, who's almost two feet shorter than him. That did not go well.

"A bunch of jocks were cornering Alex, so Marissa swooped in, saved the day, and walked him to class. Then, in her art class, Bryce – who hates drawing – was there, along with Samuel, who looks like a rock god, but was actually interested, and girl she could swear she's seen before. She just can't place her.

"Damian and Lindsay ran into each other in the hallway – literally – and she's giving him the cold shoulder, even though he could swear he's never seen her before. But he knows there's more to her than meets the eye.

"And McKynleigh walked in – or out – on Samuel smoking a joint, but the only thing she can think about is how cute he is. *dreamy sigh* Oh, and Matheus might have a crush on Ellis, but that might just be because he actually comes up higher than her shoulder. And that's what you missed on The Magic Number."

* * *

><p>*Hannah*<p>

I ran into Mr. Bassett's class – literary magazine – just before the bell, thanks to my need for my hair to be dry. Luckily, though, I'd found the room surprisingly quickly. I walked over to the teacher's desk, where a dark-haired man who looked like he was in his late 20s was sitting at a computer that was blasting the "Star Wars" theme.

"Good morning, I'm Hannah," I said, smiling at him. I knew it sounded a bit like I was trying to kiss up, but it was always nice to be the first to introduce yourself. Even if I had to put the joking aside for a moment.

He looked up and smiled back. "Good morning, Hannah. Grab a chair, I'm just about to take roll."

I turned back around and rook in the classroom. The tables were set up with four chairs around each, and there were a few spots left. I didn't recognize anyone, but one person kept drawing my attention.

"Hey," I said, plopping down next to the only person sitting alone.

He looked up, surprised. "Oh, hi."

"I'm Hannah," I said, trying to sound friendly, which wasn't hard.

"Damian," he said, returning my smile.

"Are you new around here?" I asked, noticing his accent.

He shook his head. "I moved here in 7th grade. But I'm new _here_. I mean, I'm a freshman."

I beamed at him. "Me, too!"

He grinned and I felt my heart melt a little bit. He really was adorable. "Say, why did you pick literary magazine?" he asked. "You don't seem like a writer."

I laughed at that. "Oh, I'm not. But I like reading and art, so I figured this would be fun."

He shrugged, smiling. "Same here. Honestly, I can barely write a passing essay, let alone a short story."

I laughed louder at that, drawing a few people's attention, which seemed to make Damian a bit uncomfortable.

"Sorry," I said, quieting down.

"Oh, it's fine," he said, waving it off. "I just don't like being the center of attention, ya know?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I normally draw attention to myself, but it isn't all intentional. It's just my charm and good looks." I flipped my hair over my shoulder, making him laugh. I knew I didn't fit in, looks-wise. I just normally played along by being the class clown. "So, do you have any friends here?"

He nodded. "One. We've been best mates since I moved here."

"Cool!" I said, wondering if I'd get to meet him. Or her. I'd never really had a friend that stuck around for more than a year.

"Alright, class!" Mr. Bassett said, turning off the music, getting up, walking to the board, and cutting off any reply Damian was going to make. "Welcome to lit mag! After I take roll we'll start looking at what was sent in over summer." He talked a bit more about what we'd be doing, took roll, and sent us to work. Damian and I looked at a few pieces together, making the hour fly by, and I couldn't help smiling every time he opened his mouth.

Well, I already had two friends. Cute ones at that. The future was looking bright for MC Hannah.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, Hannah and Damian! Might we see some Dannah romance? Or will it be unrequited? You'll have to wait to find out. ;p<strong>

**You'll find out who Flower is in chapter 12. ;D Oh, and Mr. Bassett's based on my language arts teacher.**


	10. Blending

**AN: It still lives, I swear! I'm sorry for the wait! But this is the last super-short chapter for a while, at least.**

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><p>*Alex*<p>

Gym. The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine. The fact that it was my first class most certainly didn't help.

Alright, so I've been told that I'm a tad dramatic. Many, many times. And have been made fun of just as much. So when I arrived at said sure-to-be-torturous gym class with the help of a very nice sophomore that I'd come to the unfortunate conclusion I would probably never see again, I came up with the idea to try to blend in as much as possible.

I walked across the gym floor, ducking my head in an attempt to avoid the stares of the students that had already arrived and were seated against the retracted bleachers. I headed toward the back corner, the empty spot that always hosts the child that no one pays attention to, only to have a girl beat me to it.

She sprinted in front of me, black locks flying and almost hitting me in the face, and plopped down. Her several bags slid across the floor a few feet and she quickly drew them closer, setting the notebook she held in her arms in front of her before finally looking up.

"Sorry, did you want to sit here?" she asked, no emotion in her voice, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Yes," I said, trying not to sound annoyed.

She moved her belongings to one side and lightly patted the spot on the other, surprising me. Not many people would do that for anyone they didn't know, let alone someone who looked like me.

"Thank you," I said, sitting down and slipping my backpack off. I thought for a brief moment, then stuck out my hand. "Alex Newell."

She smiled for a fraction of a second before her face returned to its prior expressionless state and shook my hand. "Lindsay Pearce." She dropped it. "I like your scarf."

"Oh, this old thing?" I asked, touching the dark blue material. "It was my mom's. She gave it to me a while back."

"It's nice," Lindsay said, thinking.

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Alright, freshmeat!" a voice yelled. "Line up!"

I looked over and saw a blonde, older-looking woman in a red track suit, carrying a megaphone. It would've been almost comical if she didn't already look furious.

"Well," Lindsay started as we jumped to our feet, "this looks fun."

I nodded and silently thanked God that I'd already made two friends.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Alex? Trying to blend in? <em><em>? XD Anyway, Alex and Lindsay are, like, best friends. C'mon. They have to be. So, in this, at least, they are.**

**Sue. XD This is a'gonna be interesting.**

**Review! Seriously! C'mon!**


	11. Butterfly Effect part 1

**AN: My first long chapter! Yay! The chapter title is foreshadowing. ;D As are a couple of things in the first part...**

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><p>*Ellis*<p>

Biology. Most certainly not my strong suit. And I had it with Ms. Tart. What kind of last name is _Tart_?

_My God, I'm such a hypocrite_, I thought, smirking to myself as I sat in the back and instantly regretted it when a guy the size of a bodybuilder sat in front of me. I got up and sat on the other side of the room, a row up, only to look over and see that the other seat at the table had a backpack next to it.

"Hi," a girl said, sitting next to me. She was pretty, but almost looked as young as I did. Her hair was black and just a bit longer than chin-length, the color matching her eyes. She looked dark-skinned Hispanic and was dressed in a T-shirt, boots, and long jacket, all black, along with dark-wash jeans, but two things really caught my attention. She had a black heart tattooed next to her right eye and a small bracelet of real-looking jewels hanging from a chain around her neck.

"Hey," I said, trying to meet her eyes instead of looking next to them.

"I'm Veronica," she said, smiling. "But everyone calls me Jewels."

_I can see why_, I thought, struggling to maintain eye contact. "I'm Ellis."

She smiled wider. "I like your name. Your shirt's really cute, too."

I looked down. The shirt I was wearing wasn't really my style. It was also a good two sizes two big for me because it wasn't even mine, it was my best friend's. Although I did think it was cute.

"Thanks," I said, looking at her outfit again. "I like your… jacket." I resisted the urge to say necklace just to get some background info.

She giggled. "Thanks. I wear it all the time. So, have you thought about what clubs you're gonna sign up for?"

I shrugged. "Well, I heard there's an anime club. You?"

"I'm joining jazz band," she said, smiling. "But it's really just so I can help with the Glee Club."

I raised an eyebrow. "Glee Club? Are you sure that's smart?" I'd already heard more than enough about it.

She shrugged. "Well, I love singing, but I'm not very good. At all, actually. And since I've been taking drum lessons for a few years and the band graduated, I figured I could at least try. Plus, one of the teachers here is my aunt, so the jocks can't pick on me without getting in trouble."

I was going to ask for details, but the teacher stood up before I could. I looked around and saw that almost the entire class was there before turning my attention back to the front.

The teacher grabbed the tie on her bun, pulled it out, and shook her hair loose so that her red locks fell around her face. "Hello, class." She smiled widely, fluttering her eyelashes. "My name is Ms. Tart. The first person who makes fun of that gets hit with my ruler." To emphasize her point, she picked up her ruler and hit it against her palm, creating a loud slapping sound and making half the class flinch. She went up to the front row and slowly walked through the desks to the back as she spoke, hands clasped behind her back. "You are now my aquarium. If you fail, you will turn over on your back and go _blub, blub, blub_. If you do this, I will poke and annoy you until you turn back onto your belly. And this will not be fun for you."

She'd reached our table and was looking directly at me. I stared blankly, speechless. Jewels was giggling.

"What is your name?" she asked, drumming her fingers on the edge of the desk. I noticed there was a white stripe at the base of her ring finger.

"Ellis," I managed, very tempted to back away.

She stared at me for another moment before declaring, "I like your shirt, but the shoes could use some work… You're my new favorite." She patted my head before going back to her desk.

"What just happened?" I asked a moment later, blankly staring at the woman.

Jewels shrugged, giggling like a madwoman. "And I thought Aunt Kalli was crazy." she thought a moment. "Well, she still is."

I looked over at her and raised an eyebrow, curious, but let it go and looked back up to see _A=P(1+r/n)^nt_ written on the board.

"Oh, wait, this is biology," Ms. Tart said to herself, erasing it.

_Oh, what have I gotten myself into?_ I thought, rubbing my temple as Jewels started giggling even louder.

* * *

><p>I walked into language arts a bit <em>wary<em>, to say the least. The first two periods introduced me to enough crazy people, thank you.

The board was on the wall adjacent to the door and the teacher's desk was on the other side. I sat down in the seat closest to the door just as the completely invalid late bell rang and looked at my schedule for the name. I'd nearly memorized all of the room numbers, but not the teachers.

_Mr. Ozmar_, it read. I looked around the almost empty classroom. It hadn't taken me too long to get there, since it was down the hall from Ms. Tart's. I sighed quietly, dug out my iPod, and put my earbuds in. I scrolled down the list too fast to read anything, stopped it, and picked the first song I saw.

"_Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear_," I sang quietly, vaguely aware of someone sitting next to me.  
>"<em>And it shows them pearly white<br>Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe  
>And he keeps it, ah, out of sight<em>"

I stopped, feeling a pair of eyes on me, and glanced over to see an overweight African-American boy wearing a dark blue scarf openly staring at me. I paused the song and took the buds out.

"Girl, you've got chops!" he said, sounding surprised.

"Thanks…?" I said, unsure whether to judge his words or expression.

"I'm Alex," he said, sticking out his hand. "Believe me, I know talent. And you've got it."

"Ellis," I said, shaking his hand. "How do you 'know talent'?" I asked, amused.

He scoffed, smiling. "'Cause I got it, girl. Lots of it."

I smirked. "I bet."

"I do!" he insisted, throwing his hands up.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say. If you've got so much talent, why not join Glee Club?"

He tilted his head to one side. "Glee Club?"

"You've never heard of it?" I asked, shocked.

He vigorously shook his head. "Oh, no, I know what it is. I just didn't know that this school has one."

My jaw dropped a good couple of inches. "Um, it's kinda legendary. Infamous, at least."

He threw his hands up again, this time in surrender. "Hey, I'm new around here! Cut me some slack, girl!"

I scoffed, amused. "Alright, sure. But the club is known for getting bullied. They were supposed to be really good – I mean, I never saw them, but that's what Bryce and Mars said – but most of the school hated them. They got slushies in their faces every day. Some of them even got thrown into the Dumpster." I hadn't noticed, but I'd been subtly leaning in closer, my voice getting quieter.

"Well…" he started, trying not to look as surprised as he obviously was, "are you gonna join?"

I blinked, taken aback, though I shouldn't have been. "Um… I dunno," I confessed, shrugging.

"Well, give me some positive and negative," he said, looking calculating but genuinely curious.

I shrugged again. "I love singing and performing, and it sounds really fun, but… I don't think I could handle it. The bullying, I mean."

He nodded. "Well, I think the two of us are gonna get it either way. I mean, look at us. I'm…" He trailed off, seemingly trying to find the right word.

"Flamboyant? I offered.

He chuckled. "Alright, flamboyant. And, no offense, but you look about eight."

"So I've heard," I grumbled. His reply was cut off by the door opening.

In walked a man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties, talking on a phone. He was about 5'9", with insanely pale skin, dark eyes, and floppy, almost-black hair. He wore a dark gray, fur-lined jacket with lighter gray crosses on the upper arms, a shirt that said _American Idiot_ over a hand holding a grenade shaped like a heart, worn out jeans, purple and black checkered Vans, and a necklace that said _L_ in fancy handwriting.

"So then I put the body in the trunk," he was saying, "but I left it in too long and now my car smells like dead body!" He finally looked up and paled even more. "Oh, there are people in here. I'll, uh, talk to you later, Hannah." He hung up, shoved his phone in his pocket, walked over to my desk, squatted, set his arms on the edge, and set his chin on them.

"_Hi_, I'm Mr. Ozmar," he said in what was quite possibly the gayest, most nasal manner I'd heard in my life. "You can call me Sand." His tone suddenly changed to matter-of-fact, his mid-high voice making it sound a bit strange. "_So_, welcome to 9th grade language arts. You're probably gonna die now." He nodded slowly, expressionless, before grinning, jumping up, and going over to the board.

"The hell…?" I muttered before looking at Alex, who seemed just as weirded out as me.

That proved it. With or without Glee, these _teachers_ were gonna make my life quite interesting.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And so another OC is introduced! ^^ I'm formulating their backgrounds to fit this story, and I have the basics, but I'm soliciting help from my nonexistent readers! If you have any ideas, for any of my four OCs (another will be introduced in two chapters, I think, and the most important will be introduced in a few), feel free to say!<strong>

**Would it be bad to say that Ms. Tart and Mr. Ozmar are based off of people I know? ^^; A:tLA readers, you should recognize Mr. Ozmar. TGP readers... not so much. But you will soon!**

**Review!**


	12. Sexy Teachers, Butterfly Effect part 2

**AN: Well, that was fast... But I'm way behind on this, so... ^^;**

**POV note: first person's 2nd period, then 3rd, then second person's 2nd period, then 3rd**

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><p>*Bryce*<p>

_The only good thing about having math 2__nd__ period_, I thought, sitting at the back of Ms. Warwick's room and ignoring the late bell, _is that I can get it over with._ I thought a moment._ Well, that and…_

"Hey, boo," Emily said, slinging her bag over the back of the chair next to me and flipping her hair over her shoulder before sitting.

I smiled at her. "Hey, Em." I leaned over and pecked her on the lips, grateful that there wasn't a teacher there, since all but one of mine last year where ridiculously strict. We'd been together since 7th grade. Contrary to popular belief, we weren't together because I was linebacker and she was a Cheerio. We actually had feelings for one another.

She smiled. "Hey, you had first with Mar, right?"

I nodded, wondering why she was asking.

"Did she seem alright to you?" she asked, nonchalantly taking out a compact and fixing her usual hot pink lipstick.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, now a bit concerned. The last time she'd asked me anything like that was…

"She just seemed a little tense," she quickly assured me. "It's fine."

"Okay," I muttered, trying not to sound as worried as I was. Whenever she said something like that it made me nervous. I knew she was more even worried about her having a relapse than I was, but she hid it better than I did.

"If something's wrong, I'll tell you," she promised, smiling a bit and taking my hand, making me smile a bit back. However, before I could say anything, the door opened.

A woman walked in, books clutched to her chest. Her makeup was a bit too heavy and she was standing ridiculously straight. She was wearing a brown, tailored jacket that was buttoned all the way up, a gray pencil skirt, thick-framed glasses, and 4-inch brown heels. Her chestnut hair was up in a bun and she looked to be in her early to mid-30s, but something told me she was younger. I sighed quietly, dropping Emily's hand before the woman could see it and yell at us.

She dropped her books on her desk with a loud _thump_, walked up to the board, and wrote her name in bright blue marker. "My name," she said, underlining it, "is Ms. Warwick. And I…" She turned to face the class, kicked off her shoes, tore the tie out of her hair, and threw her glasses to the ground. She quickly unbuttoned her jacket, revealing a hot pink, low-cut tank top and ripped off her skirt to show a black miniskirt.

"And I am the sexiest math teacher ever!" she yelled, fist pumping. She ran over to her desk and planted her foot on the edge, showing her underwear. She grabbed a plate and set it on her knee. "Who wants a cookie?"

I let out a catcall, breaking the silence that had enveloped the rest of the room. The other students snapped out of it and did the same and Emily punched my arm.

"Ow! Hey!" I complained, rubbing the spot.

"Not allowed," she half-chastised, flipping her hair back over her shoulder.

I smirked a bit. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you jealous."

She glared at me and held up her hand, which was curled like a claw to show her ridiculously sharp nails.

I paled a bit, knowing how much those hurt. "I apologize."

She smirked. "That's better," she said, lowering it.

I frowned and stuck my tongue out at her, proving just how mature I am and, miraculously, making her laugh.

* * *

><p>We walked to language arts together, still laughing at Ms. Warwick. There had definitely been more stripping than math.<p>

"Oy, and people call _me_ a slut," she muttered, slipping into a desk.

"Oh, come on," I said, sitting next to her. "It's not that bad."

She raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you of the lipstick incident?"

"No," I said quickly. "No, you don't." I looked around the room. "Um, why are there butterflies painted on the walls?"

She looked. "And why are they pink? You sure we're in the right room?"

"You are," a voice nearly deadpanned from the front of the room. I looked up to see a tired-looking woman in her early 20s with short, hot pink hair pinned back with a white rose. She was wearing a Minnie Mouse dress and sitting at the teacher's desk, sipping out of a Disney mug and reading a book with a brown-haired girl with fox ears and a tail standing in a field on the cover.

She yawned loudly and stood up, placing her mug and book on the desk. "Welcome to language arts. I don't know what grade you're in and I don't care. My name is Ms. Knight, but feel free to call me Flower. Please talk among yourselves, but not too loudly because I wanna finish this book." She plopped back down into her chair, took another sip of her coffee, picked up her book, and propped her feet up on the desk.

"Weren't all the teachers last year yelling at us all the time?" Em asked quietly, eyebrow raised. "What happened to them?"

I shrugged. "Well, this isn't exactly a bad change."

She nodded, thinking. "Very true."

* * *

><p>*McKynleigh*<p>

I walked through the hallway, shaking my head to try to clear it of the logarithms it had already been filled with. My math teacher was insane, and not in a good way.

I glanced down at my schedule to double check before stepping into the room I'd wound up in front of. AP human geography with Ms. Cahill.

The woman at the desk looked up, bored. "Name?" she asked in a low monotone, adjusting her ponytail as I walked up to her. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties and was pale with brown hair, dark eyes, and freckles. She was wearing large, white, studded earrings, thick, black-framed glasses, a gold cross, jeans, worn out white tennis shoes, and a black maternity shirt.

"McKynleigh Abraham," I said, adjusting the strap of my backpack.

She looked over at her computer, clicked something, and pointed to a desk near the back. "Just go sit over there."

I nodded, walked back, slung my backpack over the chair, and sat. I dug my book out and debated whether or not to prop my feet on the desk before deciding that I'd been hanging around my brother too much and that would definitely _not_ be a good idea. Instead I opened it to my page, kept it open with my right hand, and leaned my chin on my left.

_I checked in with Ms. Callender_, I read, _who sent me up to work in the Main Exam Room. To my surprise I saw Jaya there, pacing back and forth under the west Tiffany–_

"Name?"

I looked up, wondering who had walked in.

"Robert Mitchell," the boy up front said, brushing his messy, dirty blonde hair out of his eyes. He was wearing a red and brown camp shirt, red low tops, skinny jeans, a silver cross, and ridiculously thick glasses. "But I go by Cameron."

Ms. Cahill clicked something and gestured in my general direction. "Go sit next to the girl with the beige scarf."

I glanced down as he walked over. Yep, that was me.

"Hey," he said as he sat.

I nodded. "Hey. I'm McKynleigh. And, no, that's not a joke," I added when he raised an eyebrow.

He smiled. "Cool name. I'm Cameron."

"I know," I said, amused.

"What?" he asked, confused.

I laughed at his expression, realizing how weird that sounded. "I mean I heard you when you were up there."

"Oh," he said, seeming to understand.

I scoffed before looking down and thinking of something. "Hey, you ever read this?" I asked, holding up my book.

He looked at it. "_The Grimm Legacy_? Yeah, it was good. I love how Aaron–" He cut himself off by putting his hand in front of his mouth, obviously covering a spoiler. "Uh, never mind." He dug around in his backpack, ignoring the fact that I was laughing. "Ever read _Mockingjay_?" he asked, holding up a stain, blue-covered hardback.

I beamed. "God, yes! I love Suzanne Collins! But I hate how Prim–" I cut myself off by covering my mouth with my hands only to burst out laughing a couple of seconds later. "Oh, I have a feeling we're gonna be good friends."

He nodded, chuckling. "Me, too."

* * *

><p>I groaned quietly, walking into the gym. Last period had been pretty awesome, if I did say so myself. Ms. Cahill seemed cool, if overly sarcastic, but I knew how to deal with that by now. My conversation with Cameron had gone from books to school to guitars, which in turn led to Glee Club and the ridiculousness of the social ladder. Apparently he was thinking of joining. But now I had gym, which was a completely different story. I knew I wasn't fat, but I wasn't exactly the fittest person, either.<p>

I walked over to the collapsed bleachers and sat near the middle, a safe spot in my mind. There were barely any people there yet, anyway. I was good at finding my way around.

I slipped my bag off, dug through the smallest pocket, found my iPod, put my earbuds in, found a song, and hit play.

"_Last night I got served a little bit too much of that poison, baby_," I quietly sang along, taking out my book.  
>"<em>Last night I did things I'm not proud of and I got a little crazy<br>Last night I met a guy on the dance floor and I let him call me–_"

"Oh, I love that song!"

I looked up to see a girl smiling down at me, eyes bright. She was cute, in a young-looking way. She was Hispanic, a bit chubbier than me, and on the short side. The way she was dressed made her stand out, but my attention was automatically drawn to the tattoo next to her eye.

I smiled at her, stopping the track and taking the buds out. "Me, too. Wanna sit?" I shook my head quickly as she beamed and complied, trying to remind myself that she was my age, not as young as she looked. I, of all people, should realize that by now.

"I'm Jewels," she introduced herself. "Well, that's what people call me, at least." She nervously scratched the back of her neck, smiling meekly.

"I'm McKynleigh," I said, quietly laughing at her expression.

She immediately brightened. "Like the school? Cool!"

Before I could say anything, another girl walked over. She was overweight – more so than Jewels – and, from this angle, looked almost as tall as me. She was wearing a salmon colored shirt with ruffles on the front and had a black headband pinning her orange hair away from her freckle-covered face.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" she asked, smiling.

Jewels shook her head, smiling back as I said, "Go ahead."

"Thanks!" the redhead said before plopping down and crossing her legs Indian-style. "Cool necklace," she said, pointing at the string of gems Jewels had on a chain.

The younger-looking girl beamed. "Thanks. I always wear it. I'm Jewels."

"I'm McKynleigh," I added.

"Hannah," the redhead introduced herself.

Jewels turned back to me. "So, you like to sing?"

I nodded, smiling. "Yeah, ever since I was a little kid. I've actually won a couple of competitions."

"Have you thought about joining Glee Club?" she asked.

I shrugged. "A little," I admitted. "But I don't think it's worth it. The ridicule, I mean."

"I might be joining," Hannah piped up.

"You sing?" I asked, surprised. Not many people would actually admit that.

She nodded. "Wanna hear something?"

I nodded as Jewels let out an almost over enthusiastic, "Yeah!"

Hannah smiled before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, suddenly looking serious.

"_I heard that you're settled down  
>That you found a girl and you're married now<br>I heard that your dreams came true  
>Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you<em>"

She stopped there, opening her eyes and smiling again. "See? I got talent!" She flipped her hair over her shoulder, obviously joking.

"That you do!" I said, impressed.

"Wow!" Jewels said, beaming again.

"I rap, too!" Hannah said brightly. "They call me MC Hannah." She winked, then looked just a little bit more serious. "I'm really thinking about joining. I know it'll be hard, socially, but, I mean, look at me." She gestured up and down.

"But you're pretty," Jewels said, confused, before shaking her head, something changing in her eyes. "But I get what you mean. If I didn't know one of the teachers, I'd be slushied for being 'goth'."

I nodded. "Even us freshmen know this school's stupid. Completely full of idiots."

The other two nodded before Jewels turned to Hannah and asked, "Can we hear a rap?"

Hannah smiled and nodded, but I was too lost in my own thoughts to hear her start. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to join or not. It really did sound fun, but… I snapped myself out of it and focused on Hannah. She was good.

"_While it's rollin', hold on  
>Pump a little bit and let 'em know it's goin' on<br>Like that_"

I smiled as she kept going. Maybe I _would_ join. After all, these two were going to. And possibly Cameron.

Now if only I could convince _her_…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Teachers: Yeah, so Ms. Warwick and Flower are based on my friends... Actually, Flower's based on my best friend... ^^; And Ms. Cahill is my legit AP human teacher.<strong>

**Ships: I enjoy Bremily. It will actually be the only steady couple in this. You'll see what I mean soon enough. And Emily's hand thing is actually a reference to Lunar High. ^^**

**Books: Flower's reading Spice & Wolf volume 1. And both The Grimm Legacy and Mockingjay are pretty fucking awesome.**

**Hannah's song: I'm trying to only use songs I've heard each character sing for this first part, because I'm not allowing myself to use them later on. However, the only solo Hannah ever did was Back to December. And in an interview she said that the song she'd want to perform most on Glee was Someone Like You, so...**

**OCs: I'm still accepting backstory ideas! ^^**

**Review!**


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